Duncan Kyle - Terror's Cradle

Ànd all this,' I said, 'comes for the price of . one tin roof ?'

Elliot gave a little shrug. 'Those bastards don't play all that chess for nothing. So now you know the big question. Is that tin roof a little ploy with a pawn? Or is the goddam thing a queen?'

There was a knock on the door. Elliot turned, walked over and unlocked it, and let Willingham in. I didn't like the expression on Willingham's face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Elliot got in first. He said just one word: 'Nikolayev.'

Willingham's mouth suddenly opened a good deal further, then closed with a snap and he said quickly, 'I don't think we need him any more.'

Why?'

Willingham gave me a glance of malevolent triumph `There's an Anderson here. And a Jarlshof. And a Sandness.'

It had been bound to happen. I was so tired now, so battered by the day's rampaging events, that defeat seemed to cover me suddenly with a wet, black blanket. They knew it all now, the whole damn lot. I'd nothing in reserve, no hope to cling to. It was the finish for me and probably, and much more tragically and totally, for Alsa, too. Then, from somewhere in my tired mind came the realization that I was still ahead. There were still things I knew and they didn't. And Elliot's argument, cogent and convincing as it was, hadn't shifted the balance of my own values. The information was important, all right. It was important to a great many people : to governments, to politicians, to strategists. Even maybe to me. But not as important as a life I valued. If it was one life against all this, I'd settle for the one life. If there were some way to save her. Alsa didn't matter a damn to Elliot and Willingham. She mattered a lot less to the Russians. But she mattered to me, even if the Russians had been right and she intended to marry Anderson.

I said, 'There was a fire tonight. At Jarlshof.'

Ì know that, sweetheart,' Willingham said. 'Did you start it?'

Às a matter of fact, I did'

Èxcellent. We'll get you for arson, too.'

Elliot said quietly, 'Why did you start it? '

`Because,' I said, 'the house was lousy with Russians.'

While they were still digesting it, gaping • me, while expressions chased one another across their two faces, I said harshly to Willingham, 'Did the police tell you a postman had been attacked?'

He nodded slowly.

Elliot said, 'By the Russians? That's what you believe?'

Ìt was on the Sauciness Road. I don't have facts to prove it was the Russians. But I know it. West Mainland is full of old people. All the mail going that way will be personal. No money, or very little. Not worth the effort for any criminal.'

`They've got it back, then,' Willingham snarled.

I let them think for a moment. It was Elliot who spoke. `What time? Which came first?'

`The attack on the postman came first,' I said. 'Otherwise they wouldn't have been lurking around Anderson's house. So they can't have got it, can they?'

Elliot came towards me, put his bony face close to mine, and said very quietly, 'W ere is Anderson?'

`The' Russians asked e that.'

`Where is he?'

Ì don't know.'

Willingham said, 'The galley shed. What the hell were you doing there?'

`Looking for him. Not finding him.'

Elliot turned away. 'Willingham, we need police help. W.e need to know how the mail comes in. Get the head cop up here!'

The head cop turned out to be the sergeant, because the local police inspector was away on a three-day course in Edinburgh. Elliot was clearly disconcerted by the lack of heavy rank. 'What's your name?'

`McAllister, sir.'

Òkay McAllister. Get on to the postal authorities. If there's any fresh mail on the island now, it's got to be checked. Anything, anything at all, addressed to Anderson, Jarlshof, Sandness, or to a girl called Alison' Hay, at any address, has to be found. Arrange for tomorrow's mail, when it gets here, to be checked too.'

McAllister was a square, phlegmatic man built like a shovel blade. He said. 'What do you expect to happen, sir?'

`Who knows? Maybe an attack of some kind. Just do it, huh?'

'If it's to be, an attack, sir, we'd better warn British

Airways. Mail comes up by air from Aberdeen.'

Òkay.' Elliot nodded approval. 'And ask the post office people in Aberdeen to search at their end too. Get going.'

McAllister stayed where he was. 'I doubt they'd do that on my say-so sir. You'll need to get authority, maybe the Chief Constable of Aberdeen. Can you arrange for that sir?'

Ì'll fix it,' Willingham said. He hurried out and I heard his footsteps descending the stairs. Ànd what about outgoing mail?' McAllister asked quietly.

`Jesus, yes!' Elliot said. 'Get that looked at, too. Same names. Anderson and Hay. Any letters to anyone of either name are to be held for examination, right?'

`Right, sir.' McAllister turned to leave.

`How many phone lines have you, sergeant?'

`Three, sir.'

'I got to call London.' Elliot began to follow the sergeant towards the door, then stopped and turned to look at me. He said, 'Get a man up here to stay with Mr Sellers, sergeant.'

Àye, sir. I will.'

McAllister removed the key from my side of the door and went out. The lock's click was loud in the room. '

I went over and looked out of the room's other window. The room itself was on a corner of the building. I already knew one window overlooked Lerwick harbour, that it was high above the ground and that there was no easy way down from it. Disappointingly, the same was true of the other. I had a nice view of the modernistic library building and the Town Hall, but the drop was a good twenty feet. I'd break my neck if I tried it. And anyway, I didn't have time. The lock turned again and my guard was with me. Like McAllister he was a broad, hard-looking man, thirtyish, accustomed to handling drunken trawlermen, I guessed, probably two or three at a time. He gave me a little nod that somehow or other contrived to be a warning, too.

I said, 'Any chance of a cup of something? Tea, coffee?' `When I can. Not now.'

`When you can will be fine.'

I sat down and looked across at him. 'Been in Lerwick long?'

`Five years.'

`Like it?'

Ì like it fine.'

`Bit cold, isn't it?'

Not really, no. We get the winds, but not the ice and snow like Scotland. It's a good place to be a bobby.' `Because it's small?'

Àye. You get to know the local people. It's no like the big cities.'

I said, 'You know Jim Anderson, from Sandness.' He looked guarded. 'I know him.'

I smiled. 'It's okay. I understand. But everybody's looking for him. Mr Elliot and Mr Willingham, too. It may be you'll know something that will interest them, too.' Àye,' he said. 'It may be.'

`Somebody told me about a climb he did.'

Òch aye. He climbs fine. He was over to Foula in the summer on the high cliffs. Ringing birds, so they say.' He shook his head a little, unimpressed by that kind of unnecessary risk-taking.

Ì don't know him,' I said. 'He's a friend of a friend. I gather he's a nice bloke.'

Òch aye. He's all right, Jim Anderson. Wee bit mad, you know. Climbing and all. He's a good sailor; too.' The policeman gave a tight little smile of recollection. 'I've been out with him. Fishing, you know. He doesnae get worried in the rough water.'

I asked, Sas he a boat?' and when he looked guarded again, added, 'If he has, they'll need to know.'

Àye, maybe you're right.'

`What kind?'

`Shetland model. They mostly are, up here. Good sea boats for men that can handle them.'

`Where's he keep it?'

`Down in the small boat harbour when he's to this side of the island. Walls, maybe, most of the time.'

Ìs it here now? They'll need to know.'

Àye. It was this morning.'

`Show me where?'

He gave me a look of amiable warning. 'You'll not be trying something foolish, sir?'